Need
by jarran
Summary: Liz discovers she doesn't mind a touchy-feely Red who crosses an invisible barrier when she's in need and having a lousy morning. Red/Liz.


Liz woke to find her forehead resting against the steering wheel.

She eyed her surroundings frantically, then muttered a low oath under her breath when it occurred to her she had fallen asleep in the parking lot of the Post Office. She turned the face of her watch towards her to check the time, and swore again.

Because she hadn't gone home last night to Tom, she didn't have an alarm set on her. And the time told her she was already an hour late. Disorientated and functioning on less than five hours of sleep, she climbed out of her car, locked up, and raced inside to the elevator.

Once it descended down lower, she stepped out and faintly heard voices. Everyone had already started without her apparently.

Carefully, she attempted to smooth her hair and her burgundy blouse of all creases, then taking in a deep breath, she ran in to find everyone's eyes fixing on her from around the room. Cooper, Ressler, Meera... Red. She hoped it wasn't too obvious that she had slept in her car.

"So nice of you to finally decide to join us, Agent Keen," Cooper said, with just the slightest hint of a bite that told her he was not at all impressed with her tardiness this morning.

"Uh, good morning," she greeted, sending a swift nod at the group, her cheeks burning. "Sorry I'm late. I had... car troubles," she lied quickly to save face. There was no way she was going to tell the truth that she had fallen asleep in the parking lot.

Elizabeth Keen was dedicated to her job, but not that much.

It seemed everyone believed her, above all Cooper, who resumed the conversation they had previously been discussing while she was absent. She walked into the warmly lit space and stood beside Meera, folding her arms across her chest, trying to catch the gist of the conversation she had missed. Unfortunately what Cooper was saying flew past her ears and she found herself looking in Red's direction for assistance.

As usual, he was impeccably dressed for the occasion as he stood there, vest loosened around the collar of the crisp, white shirt he was wearing, and hands steepled out in front of his chest. The white sleeve shirts were rolled up to his elbows and she caught herself staring absently at his forearms. It was only when his warm green eyes suddenly bore into hers that she snapped out of her momentary distraction and fixed her eyes appropriately back onto Cooper instead.

"Does this guy have a name?" Cooper was saying, and his eyes suddenly flitted to her inquiringly.

Liz's breath hitched in her throat. "I beg your pardon?" she asked, her voice wavering with being suddenly put on the spot. She didn't have the slightest idea what anyone was talking about.

"A _name_, Agent Keen. I was asking for his name."

"I think Keen has missed her daily quota of caffeine this morning," Ressler said light-heartedly.

Ignoring Ressler, Liz raised her chin. "I apologize, sir," she said quietly. "I've had a rough morning, you couldn't even begin to believe how..."

"Yeah, better get Keen that cup of coffee stat," Ressler cut through her again.

If she hadn't had such a rough morning and wasn't as tired and foggy-brained as she felt, Liz might have found the humor in his remarks. Only not this morning. It seemed she wasn't the only one easily aggravated this morning, because before she knew it, Red was coming to her aid in stepping over to where she stood.

"Perhaps that would be a suitable job for you, Donald? We all know we wouldn't miss your presence in this room."

Effectively embarrassed, Ressler cursed under his breath and reddened into a fuming silence.

She looked up to meet Red's eyes gratefully, which his stared back into hers intently, finding him standing closer to her than she had anticipated.

A muscle twitched in his jaw and her breath got caught in her throat when suddenly he reached over with his arm and pressed his hand gently into her lower back. The heat from his hand burned through the fabric of her blouse and usually he had never quite went out of his way to touch Liz before; There were casual brief touches here and there, but never any intentional, obvious ones. It took her a moment to get over the shock of it all and as his thumb and forefinger started stroking her back, she felt it all the way into her skin. Every muscle in her body tensed and it felt oddly as if her insides were liquefying over it.

Her eyes were wide on his face at his unexpected touching, while he turned to face Cooper.

"As I will gladly reveal now that Agent Keen has arrived, Harold, his name is..."

She couldn't seem to make sense of anything anyone was saying, least of all Red. She felt discombobulated by the tone of his voice, the deep, appealing smokiness of it all. Words didn't seem to register in her brain. His hand on her back was suddenly too distracting and her brain screamed at her to push his hand off, to create some distance from him so she could think coherently, only her legs weren't cooperating.

"All I know is that we have to move quickly before everything comes into play..." Was all she heard from Red before he pressed his palm firmly into her back, pushing her along with him while he held his hat in his other hand.

She let him lead her towards the elevator, although she had no full idea of what was happening and what the agenda was for the day. Once the elevator door closed, at last Liz regained power of her limbs and moved over towards the wall, his hand sliding off her back along with the movement. Everything seemed to clear and much to her relief her thought process was working again.

"Is something wrong, Lizzie?" His quiet voice broke the silence in the elevator and she straightened her back, turning her eyes forward so she didn't have to endure looking at him. "You seem a little... off-color and out of sorts today."

"I'm fine," she clarified neutrally, finding her voice. "As I said, I had a rough morning. Nothing to worry about."

She caught out of the corner of her eye the movement as he inched closer towards her side of the wall.

"Yes, I can only just imagine how uncomfortable it must be, sleeping in your car for the night. Not to mention the lack of leg room and how crampy it would be on you. One must wonder why someone would sleep in a car of all places, rather than heading home and getting a decent night's sleep in a perfectly comfortable bed." She turned her eyes on him in shock, and saw that his head was tilted to the side slightly, as if considering everything. "Of course, it all suddenly makes sense if she is avoiding home and her husband."

She didn't know how he knew. Then again, he was Raymond Reddington. Apparently he knew everything about her.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she muttered feebly, turning her eyes forward.

"Oh, of course not, Lizzie," he said, and his voice was mocking. "I was just speaking hypothetically. I mean, what type of woman sleeps in a car to avoid her husband? Then again... I would do exactly the same in your position, considering how little you know of the real man you're married to. It's perfectly reasonable in your circumstances, isn't it?"

She gritted her teeth and fought against the impulse to slap him, an urge he constantly seemed to provoke out of her. Talking about her husband and ridiculously implying that he was more than a forth-grade teacher was the sure-fire way to get her defenses up.

"Please," she sighed, weariness settling into her bones. "Let's not get into this again. I'm operating on less than five hours of sleep. I don't have the energy for it today."

"And I sympathize with you, Lizzie. I really do, but it only confirms what I know." His hand went on her back again, trying to comfort her, and she moved swiftly, pressing her back into the wall. The movement of her body only caused his hand to skim across her hip, and his thumb pressed into the soft part of her hipbone. "My words of truth are finally getting to you, aren't they, Lizzie?"

"There is absolutely no truth to your words whatsoever," she hissed, holding his gaze. "Tom is a decent man. All that your saying is nothing! Oh, and the reasons why I slept in my car are none of your business!"

She felt it as his thumb started moving back and forth, while he simply stared at her. His expression was unreadable, and if he knew he had touched a nerve, he didn't show it.

"This is always some sick, enjoyable game to you, isn't it?" She whispered and her voice was drained, devoid of all emotion, illustrating how tired she felt inside. "Meddling with my life. With my marriage. I bet you're happy that I'm sleeping in my car, aren't you? Is this exactly what you wanted, right from the beginning? To ruin my marriage? To ruin... every part of my life and turn it into shambles?"

She noticed his green eyes focused closely on her mouth. Her lips. He did that subtle little movement with his jaw, with the side of his mouth, a tick she couldn't figure out, even for an FBI profiler. Figuring out Raymond Reddington wasn't easy, even for Elizabeth Keen.

"Is that enough for you?" she asked, her voice rising shrilly, when she received no answer. "Enough to destroy my marriage? To place the shreds of doubt for my husband in my mind, enough to have me sleeping in a car? Is that your little secret plan? To come into my life and destroy my marriage?"

He nodded perceptively at her words, a flinch there that told her he disliked her thinking he wanted her to suffer when it comes to her personal life. "Why didn't you come to me, Lizzie?"

His question threw her head in a whirl. She felt confused. "What... come to you? Why would I wanna do that when you're the very man hell-bent on ruining me?"

"I would have welcomed you with open arms. It certainly would have spared you all of this... tiredness and discomfort of sleeping in a car."

"Oh, please. Don't pretend as if you care about me and as if you don't have some other hidden motive in your sick and lonely mind."

She could see his chest rising and falling, each breath deeper than the last. His eyes still locked on hers, he glided his hand behind her back, his palm digging into the lower part of her spine. She felt his hand twist and move, his fingers tracing upwards along the lining of her spine and egging her closer towards him.

She saw the muscles in his throat bunch and knot together as he swallowed.

"You know I care about you, Lizzie," he said, his voice just a mere, deep whisper. "Very much so."

"Then why do you insist on destroying every aspect of my life?" Her eyes moistened.

Her eyes automatically fell onto the lining of his lips as he did that little twitch he did and his hand reached further along her back, settling onto the nape of her neck. She felt the warmth of his palm and the way his fingertips pinched lightly into her skin like a soothing massage on her. Her shoulders tensed and much to her mortification she heard the uneven labor of her breathing.

"It isn't destroying your life that I want for you, Lizzie. I simply want for you to open your eyes and uncover the truth for yourself. Which... as your actions of sleeping in your car rather than heading home to your husband so evidently prove."

Her mouth felt suddenly dry and she licked her lips before guiding her eyes upward to meet his. She discovered his eyes had been fixated on her the whole time, taking her in and assessing her reactions to everything, while his fingers worked out deftly the knots in the back of her neck from sleeping in the seat of her car at an uncomfortable angle.

"What do you want from me?" The words slipped out without her control desperately. "When are you going to tell me why you are so interested in me? Why me?"

"Deep down inside you'll find you already know the answer to that, Lizzie. The issue to that is mainly whether you're willing to believe."

She closed her eyes, his fingers suddenly having a drowsy effect on her, relaxing her. That discomfort around him was gone for once and what was replaced instead of it was a groggy peacefulness in his presence. All she could feel was his fingers... hear his voice. What he was capable of doing to her, how he was making her feel, ought to have been illegal.

"Why me?" she heard herself chanting again and again. "Just tell me. What's so special about me?"

He laughed, a quiet, somewhat mocking sound. "Oh, you'll always be special to me, Lizzie."

"But why? Don't tell me it's just about my father."

She felt his legs press up against the side of hers, his kneecaps to her thighs, and she forced her eyes open, slowly realizing how close they were. He had her trapped against the elevator wall, his hand still curled around the nape of her neck and massaging her, while his legs were blocking her from either moving or escaping. She felt the light movement of his hat falling against her shoe and bouncing off as he dropped it, and then his hand instead slipped onto her waist, moving around her back.

Her breathing quickened as his hand kept up with that sensual, relaxing massage, while his other hand drifted, gradually roaming higher and higher. She lifted her eyes and met his gaze, and his eyes stared back at her unwaveringly. His irises were heavily dilated with something akin to longing, his lips were slightly parted and pinched at an angle, and she could feel his breath dancing across her chin in a steady, constant warm rhythm.

A wave of sudden arousal hit her, something she never thought she would feel for the infuriating man massaging and tendering to her neck, and abruptly she felt an insane urge to kiss him.

Lack of sleep was definitely screwing up the way her brain worked this morning. She felt almost drunk. Well, no doubt, she was acting like a drunk woman. Ressler was indeed right. Caffeine was a must.

"I need a strong cup of coffee," she blurted out, mainly to herself. "That's all this is about."

She heard him chuckle as he moved in, the side of his cheek brushing against hers. His lips touched the rim of her ear, moving, as he whispered, "I think what you truly need isn't coffee at all, Lizzie. What you need is a good night's rest."

"I guess I could use some of that, too."

His hand slid from the nape of her neck, the sensations were suddenly gone, and he moved away from her, stepping back. Instantly her head felt clearer as she watched him reach down to retrieve his hat off the floor and as the doors of the elevator rushed open, she was cruelly plunged back into awareness.

"Now isn't the time to sleep," she said, and her legs were unsteady as she pushed her weight off the wall. His hand slipped around her waist, steadying her, and all the breath left her in an ashamed huff. "We've got a job to do. Let's get this over with. I'll sleep later."

Truth was, she hadn't heard a single thing about what was on today's agenda, but she had no doubt Red wouldn't mind filling her in.

She saw the way Red opened his mouth, about to say something or disagree, but then he smartly closed it and tilted his head. "I think you'll be needing that coffee first, Lizzie. Luckily for you, I know a little café downtown where they make the strongest Brazilian blend known to mankind. You're in for a treat."

She gave him a tiny smile. "Sounds perfect to me. Lead the way."

Red's palm pressed in her back, guiding her, but this time she hardly minded at all. In fact, she enjoyed his touches. Relished in it, almost. How odd it was that things can change within a heartbeat when you're deprived of caffeine and in dire need of a few extra hours of sleep.

It was solely lack of caffeine and sleep, and hardly anything to do with Raymond Reddington. Or so she continuously told herself.


End file.
